


Ori and Nori: Patron Saints of Bagginshield

by Dach



Series: Galadriel's Hairpin Box [5]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Bilbo doesn't go back to the Shire, Crack, Dori is confused, F/M, Humor, M/M, Meet the Dwarves of Erebor, Post-Canon, The Author Regrets Nothing, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Thorin III Stonehelm Is an Idiot, Thorin Is an Idiot, shipper-trash!Nori, shipper-trash!Ori
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-07
Updated: 2017-02-07
Packaged: 2018-09-22 17:57:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9618767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dach/pseuds/Dach
Summary: Ori discovers his brother creeping on two dwarves. Whence he expresses that he has not idea what an 'OTP' is, Nori whisks his brother away and trains him in the ways of shipping.AKA: shipper-trash!Nori and shipper-trash!Ori do what they do best.





	

“Nori?”

“SSHHH!!!!” Ori was shushed by his older brother immediately, and Nori leapt down from from the window ledge with a frown. Above him, the voices of Thorin III and Lóni grew quiet, clearly suspecting an eavesdropper. The two brothers waited in silence for a moment, and then the occupants of the room above them began to talk once more, this time, about the weather.

“Argh!” Nori gave a groan of frustration and fell to the grass. Arms crossed, Ori lifted an eyebrow at the thief's antics. One final (and probably unnecessary) groan, and Nori had rolled onto his stomach, an accusing finger pointing at his younger brother.

“You ruined it! My OTP was gonna be canon!”

Ori blinked owlishly.

“... OTP?”

“One True Pairing?” Nori inquired, raising his eyebrow at his brother expectantly. When Ori showed no sign of recognition, he laughed. “And you call yourself a scribe!”

His “OTP” forgotten, the spymaster sprung to his feet, grabbing his brother by the arm and ignoring his squak of surprise to lead him off the cobblestone road and down a ravine.

With all of the repairs being made on a recently-reclaimed Erebor, the majority of the dwarves had focused their efforts on collapsed tunnels, and the rebuilding of Dale. It was thanks to those repairs that the clearing had not yet been discovered. Thorin- after he had healed from the injuries inflicted by an orc only stopped by a foolishly brave hobbit- had declared that he wished for further alliances and friendships between races. For a while, Oin had been half convinced that the king had suffered a concussion worse than they thought. Finally, his wish was enacted- after lengthy trauma-tests, that was- and stone homes were built to span the area between Dale and Erebor. Thorin had yet to name the place where the two cultures merged.

As it was, the other dwarves were far too occupied with the going-ons, and none had yet discovered Nori’s favorite spot. While Dale and Erebor were both generally bare of trees, and even greenery in general, their burglar had called on some of his relatives. The more “Tookish” ones, Bilbo had said. The hobbits had been thrilled at the dirt- they said that the lack of plants had allowed the earth to build in nutrients- and immediately set to growing fields, farms, and flowers. Thorin drew the line at four different types of vivid tulips.

Even with the hobbits’ help, planting went slowly, and they would need to make due with the occasional stands of greenery that rose in the plain. In comparison to the grassy, rolling terrain around them, the trees seemed to shelter oases.

These stands of greenery grew in few places, and most notably, along nearly every single road that linked the newest homes. And Nori had found one such stand; one which actually  _ did _ seem to house an oasis. Inside, a decently-sized meadow had been encircled by firs, and a tin roof jutted out from where Nori had nailed it to the largest tree. Underneath lay dry grass; Nori had put up the roof over a month ago and, as such, the various pieces of parchment pinned to the sheltered part of the trunk remained dry. 

Ori didn’t have the time to read the papers pinned to the tree, as a log was quickly made use of via Nori pushing Ori onto it. The scribe’s brother seated himself on a stump nearby.

“Time for a lesson!” declared the spy. “One True Pairing: used to describe a relationship that you want to happen or that you think works well together. I ship several.”

“Ship?” asked Ori. Nori’s jaw dropped.

“Brother, how uncultured are you???!???”

“I’m not!” Ori tried to defend himself. “I’m perfectly enlightened!” 

Nori laughed in disbelief, then continued his spiel of education. “Shipping is a term used to describe one person supporting two people in a romantic relationship,” Nori explained, uncommonly eloquent. 

Ori nodded hesitantly, then said, “But don’t we all? I mean, we all ‘shipped’ Dís and Víli. Why do you make such a point of it?”

Nori looked as if someone had asked him why he antagonized Dwalin. “Because it’s fun, that’s why!” he burst out. Ori jumped slightly in surprise.

“Fun?”

“Oh, aye,” Nori nodded sagely. That’s when Ori took the opportunity to take a closer look at the parchment scattered underneath the tree-mounted tin roof. 

“What’s this?” he asked, pointing at a list of names inked in royal-blue. Nori glanced over and grinned.

“Ship names!” he announced. “It’s like the merging of names to signify of ship!”

Ori lifted an eyebrow. “So what’s ‘Dwori’?”

Nori was silent for a few moments. “Say nothing.”

“... are you shipping  _ me _ ?!”

“Say. Nothing.”

With an amused glance, Ori obliged, instead walking closer to the tin roof. “And what’s this chart?” he finally asked, pointing at a large group of names linked with different types of arrows. Nori popped up behind him, glancing at the parchment in question with a nod of pride.

“That,” he announced, with certain relish, “is my masterpiece! Exquisite is it’s beauty, and no literature has yet to have surpassed its eloquence!”

“It’s a bunch of names, stick figures, and badly drawn arrows,” Ori said, promptly crushing his brother’s dreams. 

Nori’s shoulders slumped, then he perked up again. “Semantics.”

His brother rolled his eyes, and stepped a bit closer to the chart, humming as he allowed his eyes to drift over it. “I’m guessing that a wavy arrow shaft implies a ship?” Ori guessed. Prideful, Nori nodded.

“In that case,” Ori said, smiling slightly, “I think I can agree with you on account of Fili and Bard’s oldest daughter.”

Nori’s eyes began to sparkle with mischief and a feral grin curved over his lips. He stepped closer and embraced his brother, announcing in mock-tearfulness, “Perhaps we are related after all!”

Ori snorted in amusement and wiggled free from Nori’s grasp. “Hey! Just because I agree with your ships doesn’t mean I agree with your methods,” reprimanded Ori.

“Oh?”

“Well, for one thing, it would be much better if they ended up ‘accidentally’ locked in a room together. Possibly switching belongings, so that they both think that the other has stolen their hair comb or such, may also work. And- what are you doing?”

Nori had stepped closer to a list labeled ‘Methods’ and was scribbling away with a quill he had gotten from Eru-knows-where.

“Transcribing my accomplice’s inspirations,” grinned Nori, as his quill worked across the parchment. 

“Accomplice?”

“Yep,” Nori popped the ‘p’. Ori huffed a sigh; he had lived with his brother long enough to know that this was not something he would be able to change Nori’s mind on. When Nori registered his brother’s complaints- or rather, lack of thereof- he cackled with delight, turning and sketching Ori a bow. “And so your apprenticeship shall begin, young shipper!”

The scribe groaned loudly in exasperation, but smiled nonetheless.

That night, Ori’s inition began. Or at least, that was what Nori had dubbed it. While Ori was assured that it was purely formality- he had already impressed his ‘master’ suitably- the scribe still had to stop himself from reminding his brother that there was no precedent to define it as a formality, or as tradition. And now, they huddled underneath a window.

‘ _ What did you do? _ ’ Nori mouthed, curious. Ori merely lifted his finger to his lips, motioning for quietude and smirking slightly.

“-my knife!” Lóni was protesting.

“I didnae take it,” replied Thorin III, stubborn as his uncle of shared name. “ _ But _ I need my helmet back ‘fore the sparring match ‘morrow.”

“I DIDN’T TAKE IT!” Lóni yelled. No doubt his face was flushed in frustration. It was then that Ori boosted himself up onto the windowsill, much to his older brother’s shock and fear. The thief's hiss of ‘ _ Ori! _ ’ went ignored.

“Hey, guys!” Ori greeted the two cheerfully, and their heads whipped around. 

“Ori!?” exclaimed Thorin III, shocked. “What are you doing here?”

The scribe laughed and swung his legs. “Dori and I were just in the southern field, helping the Men tend to the orchard.” 

Underneath the scribe, Nori nodded in grudging respect at the easy lie. 

Ori continued with a smile. “He asked me to come up here and tell you two to quiet down; they can hear you from down by the peaches!”

The two dwarves grew red and immediately began to sputter excuses, both beginning with, “He-”. Ori held up his hands to silence them. 

“It’s fine,” he insisted. “Kind of funny actually; Nori keeps joking about you two sounding like an old pair of married sods!”

Their eyes went wide and their gazes shot to each other simultaneously, growing- if possible- even more red. ‘ _ Yep _ ,’ Ori grinned privately. ‘ _ Nori was right. These two are definitely a realistic ship!’ _

Before the two dwarves could insist on beating up Ori’s older brother, the scribe continued. “I mean,” he said, “I don’t think that they really think that. Personally, I think that if you two told them you were even just dating, they might faint from shock!” Ori giggled, and a hidden Nori was the only one to catch the slightly mischievous tone to the younger dwarf’s mirth. Thorin III looked conspirative. 

“Do you think?” he asked. Beside him, Lóni looked just as excited, doing as bad a job of hiding his eagerness as his friend. 

Ori nodded fervently. “Oh, yeah. But I mean, if you actually did that, you might as well date! Those dwarves don’t miss a thing, they don’t. It might be hard for you to keep up the facade,” Ori’s tone sounded warning to the untrained ear, but inside, he was struggling to keep from bursting out in sinister laughter. Luckily, his efforts were rewarded, and the two dwarves turned to each other, exchanging glances and raised eyebrows.

“I think,” Lóni said, turning back to Ori with a barely suppressed grin, “that we might be able to do that.”

Ori nodded, his eyes wide with false sincerity. “Definitely. I, personally, would advise that you two should act like a dating couple for a while, first, just to make sure that the routine is well-ingrained, and you don’t slip out of it or something.”

Thorin nodded along, his brows drawn together in thought. “We could do that,” he finally said, his voice firm. “In fact,” Thorin III intertwined his fingers with Lóni’s, who was doing a terrible job at hiding his grin, “We’ll start now!” 

Ori smothered a laugh and nodded solemnly. “I wish you both the best of luck concerning your… facade.”

The two dwarves were smiling obliviously, and looking quite the pair of idiots. Because of such, they did not notice the quiet snickering that came from underneath the window ledge. As discreetly as he could (not that he needed to be discreet, thanks to how enamoured the two dwarves were with each other), Ori hopped back over the ledge, landing with a grunt on the hard-packed dirt ground and being lifted immediately onto his brother’s ecstatic shoulders.

“NORI!” Ori yelped, his hands windmilling until he clutched the leather of Nori’s tunic. “Don’t do that!”   

Nori grinned, apologizing in the most unapologetic way possible. “You have passed your exam with flying colors!” announced the redhead, ferrying his younger brother back to the shipping-clearing.

“You,” Nori began, motioning at the unmarked trees around him, “Have earned a tree of your own.”

Ori’s questioning, “Tree?” was ignored.

“Choose a tree,” demanded the redhead. Ori grumbled slightly and pointed to a fine spruce opposite of Nori’s. “Good choice, good choice.”

A sheet of tin was withdrawn from behind a stand of birches, and Nori placed it, stretching on his toes to hammer in a couple of iron nails. Ori raised an eyebrow and seated himself on a stump, watching with amusement and accepting the small box of sharp, metal pins Nori dropped into his hands. “You may begin!” declared the scribe’s brother, already pulling out a quill with a flourish and heading back to his own trees. Ori shook his head in amusement and stepped closer to the bark, withdrawing and pinning up parchment. 

“Figrid,” he murmured, starting his OTP list with the scratching of a quill. From the other side of the clearing, Nori shot his brother an amused grin. The two dwarves worked in silence for a good while. Then, Nori took privilege to look up, his mouth promptly opening in shock.

Ori had taken it upon himself to create a chart much like his older brothers. Only, instead being contained to a single sheet of parchment, it was far more expansive. Each and every person’s name was accompanied by a realistic drawing of them-which Ori had no doubt taken from the multiple sketches he made every day- and any personal information pertaining to but a single person was pinned to the drawing of said person, not obscuring, but rather, framing. On top of that, he used not inked lines. Instead, different colors of yarn stretched between pins to link drawings.

“That is ingenious!” Nori declared, startling his brother and distracting him from the end of yarn he had been winding to a pin. Ori turned to him with a doubtful smile.

“You like it?”

“Mahal, yes! And the drawings- hold on,” a crease formed between Nori’s eyebrows as he frowned slightly. “As a scribe, you write tales- lore and such, aye?”

Ori nodded and as if a switch had flipped inside of the russet-haired dwarf, a grin spread across his face and a whoop escaped his mouth. He skipped forwards and lifted his younger brother again, twirling him in the air much to Ori’s internal chagrin. “You can write ship-fiction!” Nori declared, his idea seeming already cemented to his cerebral passageways. There was no way, Ori realized, he would be able to change his brother’s mind on this.

“Why me?”

Nori rolled his eyes, plopping his brother back down onto his preferred stump and throwing his arms out to the sides. “‘Cause you have experience, and I want you to, that’s why!”

Ori huffed, but smiled, withdrawing his drawing supplies from the ever-present bag at his hip; it had been ages since he and Nori had shared a task together, let alone civilly. After a brief sweep with his eyes of the list of names, Ori set the blunt end of the charcoal against the parchment, watching it drift over the texture and leave behind gray color. Soon enough, he slipped into routine; he had always drawn portraits, and so drawing two was no difficulty. An eyebrow- no, arched a bit higher. The lips- little further; he has to look like he’s smiling fondly. Slowly, the two creatures were formed, gazing into each other’s eyes with near tangible fondness and the closest interpretation of love Ori could give physical form to.

Nori looked over and promptly choked on air. “By Mahal!” he exclaimed. “That’s brilliant!”

Ori allowed his gaze to rift over the drawing critically. “You think?”

“Yes! And the ship,” Nori petered off with a shark-like grin before turning to his parchment-littered tree and adding a new ship-name with a flourish. “Bagginshield will be made canon!” he declared.

“...Canon?”

Nori’s quill dropped to the ground. “You… you UNCULTURED SWINE!!!!”

A while later, Ori was once more considered a scribe; and  _ not _ a pig. In other words, he had sat there while terms he had never even thought of, much less wondered the definition of, flowed from his older brother’s tongue.

“And that,” the thief was finishing, with relish, “is what fluff is!”

“Fascinating.”

“I know. Now then,” Nori motioned at his shipname list, “choose a name.”

Brow furrowed in confusion, Ori motioned to ‘Bagginshield’.

“And a method,” Nori prompted, motioning to yet another list (this one was inked in bright green ink). Ori pointed to ‘duo-litary confinement’ (Mahal knew the name of that one was clearly linked to the definition). Slowly, a feral grin crept to Nori’s lips. Without a word, the spymaster motioned his younger brother out of the clearing.

“Nori?” Ori tried to ask, jogging along the dirt road in attempt to keep up with his brother. “What are we do-”

“SHH!!!!” He was cut off with a finger shoved in front of his lips, before the same finger withdrew to motion him towards a particularly large brick. With a slight grunt, Nori shoved at the wall, watching in satisfacting as the brick was pressed in slightly, and the rest of the bricks dropped out to reveal a large hole. Ori gaped; so  _ this _ was how his brother always snuck around undetected! 

With a wink, Nori gestured Ori inside. The scribe painstakingly concealed his bag in a bush before crawling in; the inside of the wall was surprisingly roomy, and a little damp. He heard another grunt behind him, and the bricks clicked back into place. Only the breathing behind him signaled that the passage was otherwise occupied; it was much too dark to scry out anything beside the dully shining pendant around Ori’s neck. But Ori was a dwarf, and soon his eyes adjusted enough so that, if he turned, he could make out the vague details of his brother’s face.

“This,” Nori hissed, startling his brother and tapping the scribe’s left foot, “means turns left. And this,” Ori felt the sole of his right foot being tapped, “means turn right. Just go forwards till I signal, and keep going until I grab your feet.”

Ori nodded, then quietly voiced his understanding, beginning to crawl. At once, his feet were grabbed. “Quieter!” Nori whispered. Ori repressed a sigh of exasperation, but complied. Slowly, they crept through…. Whatever this passageway was otherwise purposed as. Occasionally, a square hole in the wall allowed the harsh light of outside to cast a bright shape upon the stone of the passageway. Other times, the same type of rectangular hole resided upon the opposite wall, providing glimpses of rooms- both occupied, and not. That paired with the fact that the passage was slowly sloping in ascension, and Ori realized that they were in an air-vent. Sometimes, voices drifted through the stone tunnel, but Nori ignored them, instead prodding his brother forwards and past them.

At long last, Nori grabbed his brother’s feet, placing them directly in front of a rectangular hole.

“-and the Thain would, dear me! He would be most certain of that!” Bilbo was declaring. Nori and Ori both had to stifle laughter at the sheer adoration in Thorin’s expression.They listened to the hobbit ramble on about trade agreements for a little while, and then Nori’s face slipped into a mask of concentration.

“Hold this,” he murmured, pushing a knife he had hidden Mahal-know’s-where into his brother’s hands and silently slipping out of the vent. Ori had to contain a fearful gasp, but Nori’s drop was undetected, and he crept around the bickering creatures to edge open the closet door. Then, he turned to his brother and mouthed the numbers exaggeratedly as he held up his hand and counted to five.

One moment, Nori had just reached four, the next, the king and his friend had been shoved into the closet, which had been hastily barred upon their… arrival. The closet doors shook at once with the outrage of the king.

“NORI!!! I KNOW THAT’S YOU!!!” He shouted. Ori snickered and slipped from the vent, landing clumsily on the floor. 

“Actually,” he said, with a wink directed at his brother, “It’s me.”

The trembling of the door stopped at once. And then, ever so incredulously, “ _ Ori?! _ ”

“Yep!” cheered the scribe, grinning widely and trying to stifle his laughter. “How’s your day going?”

“ORI!!!”

“Yes, I believe I have confirmed that it is indeed me,” said the scribe, infusing as much innocence into his voice as he could muster. An exasperated sigh came from Bilbo’s side of the closet.

“Why don’t you let us out?” asked the hobbit. Ori laughed slightly, and Nori receded to the corner so that his chuckling wasn’t audible.

“‘Cause you need to kiss first.”

Silence.

“WHAT!!???”

“You,” Ori drew out the word, “need…. to…”

“YES! I get it!”

“Oh goody!”

Nori snorted a bit louder, but no one noticed.

“Why?” Thorin eventually asked.

“‘Cause, quite frankly, I’m getting tired of the sexual tension,” said Ori, smiling brightly. Nori turned and muffled his laughter in the crook of his elbow. No doubt Bilbo was bright red.

“What?” asked Thorin, again. Ori made to repeat the sentence again, but the king cut him off. “I heard you! Why are you deeming yourself fit to do this?”

“‘Cause I’m the patron saint of Bagginshield.” 

Nori silently dismissed himself to go laugh in the hall. Thorin grumbled, and Bilbo snorted in amusement.

“Lad-” tried the hobbit, before Ori began to whistle loudly, blocking out any attempt to contact him. “Why do you even have us in a closet?” Bilbo finally managed to yell over the shrillness. “You won’t even be able to know if we kiss!”

“The closet is figurative,” said Nori’s voice from inside of the closet. Ori was greeted by screams, and he unbarred the door to reveal a large hole in the wall and his brother. Thorin and Bilbo were both trussed up like turkeys. 

“Elvish rope,” Nori explained, motioning the the smooth strands that bound them, “hate it’s creator, but it’s damn handy! Do you know what it does?”

Thorin shook his head in exasperation- he had long since given up lecturing the spymaster- but Bilbo said: “It follows the will of it’s owner.”

“Yep!” Nori said, his grin wide. “And I bought it fair and square! Well, the stuff I bought it with wasn’t procured fair and square, but that doesn’t matter. Point is, you two need to confess whatever you feel towards each other. And it’ll unravel.”

“I don’t like Bilbo Baggins!” Thorin tried to protest, before he was cut off by snickers from the two Ri brother and a steadfast rope. He glowered slightly. 

“Have a good evening!” Nori said, before gesturing his brother to the door. Both bowed and took their leave, hardly making it halfway down the hall before they collapsed in laughter.

“Possibly the most blunt method,” Nori said, eyes streaming with tears of mirth, “but our king is so stubborn he warrants it!”

Ori just nodded, not able to do much more because of the laughter wracking him.

That night, at dinner, Dori was most confused as to why his brothers were constantly hiding snickers behind their hands and shooting glances towards the most-certainly-present king and his friend. Both were bright red. Dori shook his head in fond befuddlement; he would never understand his brothers.


End file.
